Velvet Shadows (The Crimson Court #2)

Chapter 5

NATE

“Iam pleased to see you with your head, brother.” Rafe joins me on the steps of Nighthaven, staring at the carriages lining the driveway. He is dressed for travelling — a thick coat over his broad shoulders. All traces of the hunt and his vendetta against Benjamin have been washed away.

The sun is newly set and there are storm clouds gathering overhead. The air is heavy with the close, pressing energy that means the sky will soon split open in a deafening rumble.

We have missed the bustle of the day with Mrs Hawley ensuring trunks are packed, the carriages are loaded, and that the gutterfangs sent by the Court to transport us are adequately prepared for the journey ahead.

The humans have taken the day to recover, as have we. But it has not changed the ache in my bones and the burn in my blood to be close to Sera. That has lingered from the moment I left her.

“I knew there was no real danger of Grandmother ending your miserable existence. She cannot see another of our family lost to dust on the breeze.”

“The outcome is yet to be decided,” I lie. I trust Rafe as much as any vampire can trust another, but even he cannot know the truth of things. “I will face the thirteen when we arrive in Bath.”

Rafe’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “You did not turn your surly charm onto our grandmother then and convince her to spare you from such a fate?”

I glare at him, but do not speak, letting the pulsating in my jaw be my answer instead.

“Come, brother. You can tell me. What arrangement have the two of you come to? Has our dear grandmama tasked you with more work for her in the city in exchange for her protection at court?”

“We have not even stepped away from Nighthaven and already you allow yourself to become carried away with nonsense and gossip.” I rake a hand through my hair, pushing it out of my face. “There will be no exceptions made for me when I face the Court. They will hear what unfolded — that Ambrose’s death was necessary for upholding our laws — and we will hope that the vote swings in my favour.”

“If it had been the other way around and it was your entails Mrs Hawley was clearing from the glass, the Court would have had Ambrose’s head on a spike.”

I scoff, but Rafe is right. Ambrose was not liked at court — or anywhere, in fact. The Beaumont name was all but lost when our aunt and uncle died, leaving Ambrose, Benjamin and Charlotte to be taken as honorary Blackwoods. The Beaumonts’ is a dying lineage and now that only Charlotte and Benjamin — assuming he’s still breathing — remain, it will be near-impossible to rebuild an entire House’s legacy with only the two of them.

“Ambrose had few friends in Bath. He won’t be missed.” Rafe slaps his palm against my shoulder. “You should rest easy in the knowledge that the other noble houses would rather see your surly face every day than Ambrose’s smug one.”

“Our laws are not a popularity contest.” Juliette’s voice cuts through the air behind us. She glides down the steps, a travelling cloak thrown over one of her grand gowns, and stops next to me.

I risk a sideways glance at her. By all accounts, she was the next in Valeria’s chambers tonight, and the worry etched in her eyes gives away the fact she is worse for wear for it.

“Dear sister, you have lost your grip on reality if you think court is anything other than a popularity contest,” Rafe says. “Why else do you think I am so keen to get back? Court is my playground. It’s where I shine.”

“We cannot afford any further disturbances as a result of your games,” Juliette snaps. “You will behave yourself.”

Rafe’s hand flies to his huge chest in mock indignation. “I fear we would have had no fun at all these past days if it wasn’t for me. It is not my fault that our cousins cannot stick to a base level of decency. And that is saying something. We are vampires; the bar is exceptionally low.”

I try to catch Juliette’s eye, but she refuses to meet it. Whether she knows the truth of what happened with Ambrose and the agreement with our grandmother, she is still furious with the disruption I have caused — the disruption that has undermined her authority in Valeria’s absence.

“Our heads will be firmly down once we arrive in Bath,” I say.

“Providing yours remains on these fine shoulders, hey brother.” Rafe drapes his entire arm over me this time and attempts to rub his knuckles into my skull before I shove him away.

Juliette simply frowns.

“You needn’t worry about me, Jules. I will do nothing to bring our family name into disrepute,” Rafe says, “but surely we aren’t expected to blend in? We are trying to attract potential marriages, are we not?”

“Attracting those worthy of our House does not mean strutting around like a peacock with Enzo Vespucci,” Juliette barks back.

“Come now, the Vespuccis are one of our oldest allies.”

“And Lord Enzo is one of the most despicable fools I have had the misfortunate of being acquainted with.”

Rafe’s laugh booms out of his chest. “He will so enjoy your assessment, sister, particularly when he has been trying to attract your attention for centuries. Perhaps he will win your approval with his performance at the Tournament.”

Juliette’s brow darkens. “Even if he were the victor, I would not consider it.”

“I may recommend the match to Grandmother. By all accounts you need to make a strong match and there are few Houses held in higher regard at present than the Vespuccis after Bianca’s coup. And if Nate is forced to marry the Vossler woman, we will need such a match to balance things out.”

Both Juliette and I turn on Rafe in near perfect synchronicity and he steps back, holding his hands in acquiescence. “Alright, alright.” He chuckles. “Marry one of the dreary Azarovs, Jules. See if I care. You two really have lost your sense of humour since the Season began. ”

“The hunger has a way of doing that,” I say. That and harbouring so many secrets they feel like weights in my shoes. “And you are a fool if you think any of us have a say in what happens. Even if we are the victors, Valeria will have a plan for each of us.”

“And our dear sister surely knows it.” Rafe looks expectantly at Juliette. “I do hope you’ve put a good word in for me. I have made no secret of the fact I will make the most atrocious husband and I do not wish to lose my head as our poor grandfather did, purely for the fact I am a slave to my base desires. Whoever Grandmother has in mind for me will need to be a most patient and forgiving spouse.”

“Of course, qualities us vampires are known for.” I roll my eyes.

“She has matches in mind depending where we all place in the Tournament,” Juliette says, giving nothing away.

“How thrilling.” Rafe grimaces.

“You enjoyed the balls in Mayfair. Now you will understand what the humans experience during such a circus.” I watch Rafe’s cheeks colour with frustration. He was in his element in Mayfair; flirting with the young ladies, charming their mothers. It was a thrill for him — one without any implications. He would not be bound for eternity to any of them.

“The human marriage mart cannot compare,” Rafe grumbles. “All those lords have to fear is that they might find themselves bored to death by some frightfully dull, plain woman with barely a thought in her head. They do not have to fear their spouses will murder them in their beds for their indiscretions.”

“You clearly have not spent enough time in London of late. Humans are their own worst enemies and biggest threats, even with the undead walking amongst them,” I say.

“But the gentlemen can get away with all manner of things and never be reprimanded for it! Take a mistress? Gamble away the family coffers? Father a bastard babe? None of it matters.”

“It matters for the women.” Juliette does not snarl, nor spit, but there is a bone-deep rage in her words. “It is why we do things differently in our world. It is why we are held accountable.”

Rafe laughs. “You are fooling yourself if you believe that to be true, sister. We have not escaped the problems of human society — we have merely added our own. And the consequences of our indiscretions are considerably more dangerous than wounded pride or wagging tongues.”

“Then you will have to try harder to behave yourself.” Juliette descends the steps, pausing in front of the carriages. The gutterfangs that appear in our service whenever we move from Nighthaven sit in their positions, hands on reins, pretending not to have listened to every word of our conversation.

There are two fewer carriages tonight and I wonder whether they have speculated between them as to what has happened to two of Nighthaven’s lords and the redheads they transported from London less than a fortnight ago.

“Your pledges will travel with you, as was intended in Mayfair.” Juliette shoots me a sharp look. “try to contain yourselves.” She steps forward and the driver leaps down to open the door for her, then closes it again once she has climbed inside.

“Hours locked in a carriage with Miss Fairfax in the dark? However shall I survive it?” Rafe grins at me.

“It is not your survival our sister is concerned with.”

Rafe laughs and bounds towards his carriage. I turn, hearing one of the humans — Agnes, whose voice is like nails down a chalkboard — talking animatedly in the corridors behind us. She is with Charlotte. I can tell by their footfall and the particular swish of their skirts.

“The Duchess has travelled ahead of us, Lady Charlotte?”

“Yes, but do not fear. You will meet her again once we reach court.” Charlotte’s voice sets my teeth on edge, too, but for different reasons. Where Miss Ellington has a particular tone that offends my ears, Charlotte’s is infuriating. Smug. Self-important. “I would be thrilled to introduce you properly. To show her just how well the pledging is going thanks to your obedience.”

They reach the doorway, and I watch their movements.

Charlotte pauses and turns to Agnes, cupping her face with her ice-white hand. “You were wasted in my brother’s service, Miss Ellington. You shall have such a dazzling future ahead of you now we are together.”

I stare at Agnes, watching her reaction. With Benjamin, she seemed comfortable. He managed to soften the hard edges that were so apparent in Mayfair; quietened her vicious tongue with its longing for gossip. Of course, once Gregor died, and Benjamin became a different creature altogether, Miss Ellington changed too. And with Charlotte, her demeanour has shifted once more. Now, there is adoration in her eyes — just as there was with Ridgefield before his untimely demise. Charlotte needs to be worshipped by those closest to her. It is one of the many reasons we have never seen eye to eye — because I refuse to simper at her every whim or stroke her significant ego. None of us Blackwoods do, much to her irritation. But her pledges, it seems, are quite good at it.

I keep watching as they sweep towards the carriages. Charlotte throws me her familiar, vulpine smile that tells me she wanted me to hear every word of their conversation, before sliding into the carriage behind Juliette’s.

Elizabeth, Charles, and Sera follow closely on with Mrs Hawley. There is little conversation between them, but these are not the same faces as those who first arrived at Nighthaven. Inwardly, I smile at the thought of it — of how strong and in control Sera looks despite everything. Even Wentworth and Elizabeth are not trembling in fear.

Perhaps they are looking forward to a change of scenery.

They will not feel that way for long.

Sera and I travel in silence for the first long hour of the journey, listening to the distant rumble of blackening clouds. She barely looks at me, does not acknowledge my presence, simply stares out at the looming darkness that rattles by the window.

“This will be a dull journey indeed if we do not speak to each other,” I say finally when my fangs begin to itch.

There is distemper and irritation fizzing under Sera’s skin. I can feel it. She is not scared, nor plagued with melancholy, now that she knows her fate is bound to mine. She is angry.

And that means she intends to fight back.

“I do not know what there is to discuss,” she says, still avoiding my gaze.

“You do not have questions?”

“I thought you would be in no mood for an interrogation. You have not excelled in the art of conversation previously.”

I crack my jaw, my fangs desperate to lengthen and sink into her flesh — if only to block out the invasion of her emotions for a brief minute and quieten the noise in both our heads.

“If there are questions you have, I will answer them.”

She looks at me for the first time, her deep brown eyes meeting my own. “Mrs Hawley was most helpful. She has told me much more of what to expect in Bath than I fear you ever would have done.”

“Mrs Hawley does not know everything.” I grit my teeth. “You have no questions about the bond? Of Valeria’s scheme that now sees me in her service for the rest of time?”

“What of it?” Sera shrugs. “If we are so bound together, then there is little I can do except try to avoid being killed and hope you return me the same grace.” She turns away again and my blood simmers at her feigned ambivalence.

“This was not my plan. You understand that, don’t you? I want this no more than you do. My intention was always for you to go back to your life in Mayfair once my aims were achieved at court.” I watch Sera’s reflection that is cast against the glass — her eyes flaring. “I cannot give you that now. Even if you were to go back to London, we would feel each other’s emotions, pleasure, pain; sense when the other is in danger. You are entitled to be upset.”

“Upset?” Sera scoffs, snapping her head towards me. “And what good would such an emotion do me? I have sought an escape at every opportunity, yet always felt the pull to never leave your side in my bones. If I am honest with myself, I accepted that I would never be rid of you from the moment I arrived at Nighthaven.” She is quiet for a few moments, our eyes locked together. “You speak of your aims at court — are they the same now that you are in Valeria’s service?”

I hold her gaze. “Yes.”

“And you will not tell me what they are?”

“At such a time it becomes prudent, I will enlighten you.” I feel the wave of frustration rise in Sera’s chest.

“It is prudent now. How are we to trust each other if there are things not being said?”

“Such as your scheme to find a way to break the bond?”

Outside, there is a distant clap of thunder.

Sera’s mouth opens slightly as she stares at me before she slams it shut.

“I am right, then.” I rake my eyes over her face. Her irritation rather than sorrow was the clue. She will not accept her fate. She will fight it. “Do what you need to, witchling. If you can succeed, then you will be free of me once the Tournament is over.”

She stares back at me, disbelief flickering in her eyes. “You would truly let me leave? Despite the powers my blood gives you?”

“I will have no need for such powers after the Tournament.” The bond pulses between us like a living thing — as if it has heard our plans to destroy it and wants to make its presence known.

Sera feels it, too.

“I do not know if it will be possible, but surely you are relieved, too? You do not wish to only live a handful of decades — at most — because you are so tied to me.”

“What is the alternative? Live an eternity in a world where you are not in it?” The words tumble out and sit awkwardly between us. I look away, turning my head to the window on the opposite side of the carriage.

If Sera wanted to know my true emotions, she would not have to look far for them. But I did not expect them to present themselves without my consent — to burst forth from me as if I have no control over how I feel or what I say.

When I was first turned, the reality that I would outlive my wife and children was unbearable. The thought that I would be forced to watch them grow old and die from a distance, whilst they had to believe me dead and gone, was one I could not live with. It is why I did what I did, in the end. Because I couldn’t live without them.

But the bond with Sera is not like the love I felt for my family. It is not of the heart, but a magic between our blood.

And hearts can change or be broken — blood bonds cannot. No matter what Sera thinks.

I clench my fists together, feeling the storm brewing within me — the raging urges that tell me to feed and fuck and fight. The ones I have to suppress and stamp down whenever I am in Sera’s presence or else risk destroying her and myself, in turn.

“Surely you would relish a little peace,” she says quietly. “To return to the life you had before the pledging was even mentioned?”

I say nothing, for how am I to explain that such a time feels irrelevant now? That there may be no way back to normality for Sera, but there is no return for me either.

I look away, needing to focus on anything other than the anguish on Sera’s face. “At court we will be under more scrutiny than ever, all whilst surrounded by the most powerful vampires in the country. You must be on your guard at all times. You can trust no one but me.”

A glimmer of excitement and fear surges through Sera’s veins. Her heart speeds up. Both frustrate me beyond measure. Doesn’t she understand the danger she’s in? The danger we’re both in?

I shift forward in my seat, leaning towards her. “This isn’t a game, Sera. One wrong move, one whisper of our bond, and we’ll both be dead. You cannot use your magic and I cannot use my strength or the powers you have afforded me in any detectable way until the Tournament is in full swing. We will be on edge for the entire visit, hiding what dwells between us and what you truly are.”

“Then tell me your aims and let me help you.”

My lips splay into a snarl, showing my fangs. I am desperate to grab her by her throat and push her back into the seat. To punish her for her mere existence. “How dare you demand answers from me when it is your own secrets that have caused this?”

Her eyebrows arch in indignation. “Whether you knew of my magic or not, it would not have changed the bond.”

I cannot stop the growl that erupts from the back of my throat, nor my body as I loom over Sera and cage her against the seat with my arms, my face a mere inch from hers.

I let my fangs elongate, a sharp reminder of the monster I am. “You have lied and deceived from the moment we met. You have drawn the attention of one of our world’s most formidable matriarchs with your reckless actions. And you think I will tell you my aims?”

Sera flinches at my words, but anger sparks in her dark eyes, hot and bright. “I will seek answers when my survival… our survival depends upon it.” Her scent washes over me — jasmine and honey and the tantalising rush of her blood pulsing beneath her skin. With it, my hunger roars to life, a savage, clawing thing in my gut. The urge to sink my fangs into the soft, vulnerable curve of her neck, to drink deep and lose myself in her essence, is overwhelming.

Sera must sense the dark turn of my thoughts, for her pulse quickens, her breath coming in shallow pants. But she doesn’t cower or plead. Instead, she tilts her chin up, baring her throat to me in both submission and challenge.

“You should drink,” she mumbles. “You cannot survive without my blood, and I cannot survive without you. So drink.”

A low, feral moan tears from my throat as I lean in, inhaling deeply. Sera has suffered greatly of late. But I have not fed tonight and around her, every bit of self-control I possess melts away.

“Drink, Nate.” Her voice is thick and low. She wants this.

My lips brush against her skin for a fleeting moment and then, with a sharp, precise movement, I pierce her flesh with my fangs, sinking deep into her jugular.

She cries out, her body arching against mine as I drink greedily, losing myself in the exquisite taste of her. Her blood is intoxicating — the familiar power that sets my every nerve ending alight. Tonight, it feels more potent than ever.

I am dimly aware of Sera’s hands clutching at my shoulders, but it is a distant sensation, drowned out by the all-consuming need to claim her, to possess her in the most primal way possible.

One hand keeps her pinned back as the other roams over her body. I find the square of flesh at the neckline of her dress where her breasts heave and trail my fingers along the irresistibly soft flesh.

I know what she looks like when she is entirely naked. I have admired her blood-soaked body, scrubbed her sins from her skin, and touched her as she arched into my fangs only last night. But it feels like a lifetime ago. And I am burning for more, to strip her completely as the carriage rattles through the night and feel how wet she is thanks to my attentions alone and not the waters she bathes in.

As the feed deepens, the heat in Sera’s body is magnified against my own. I feel her heartbeat in my ears, the tightening in her core, the pulse dropping between her legs. Her spine arches against the backrest, a whisper of a moan escaping her lips as she presses her hips into mine.

I do not possess the strength it takes to stop what is unfolding. My hands are at her skirts, lifting them higher, desperate to bury myself in the heat I know awaits me between her thighs.

She is on the verge of sagging beneath me and I know that to continue the feed would be the end of both of us. But at least Rafe would be proud of me. To know I died feeding and fucking like the Blackwood he always hoped I might learn to be.

With a groan, I wrench my teeth from Sera’s neck.

My breath is ragged, my senses reeling from the potent rush of her blood that has gone straight to my cock, as she crumples against the seat with pale skin and glazed eyes. I move back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. My own knees feel weak. The hunger has abated, but a new kind of ache has taken its place — a longing that has nothing to do with blood and everything to do with the infuriating, intoxicating woman before me.

I bite down on my wrist and hold it to her lips. “You must drink, too.” I grind out, my voice rough and strained.

I am desperate to put some distance between us before I do something foolish, like push her gown over her hips and let my teeth find the soft flesh between her thighs. But we are confined together. And as she drinks and her senses are revived, I feel all the same stirrings that rise in her, too.

“Can you feel it?” she asks me quietly. “Here.” She reaches out and takes hold of my hand. I flinch, but let her guide my palm back to the small square of bare skin beneath her throat. She presses it there, my hand rising and falling in time with the rapid beating of her heart. “If the bond is a physical thing, it is trapped in my chest. It does not want to be destroyed. Whatever I do to sever it, it will fight. Rebuild. I know it.” She holds my hand in place and I splay my fingers, feeling the curve of her breasts as they rise with her breathing.

Then, her face is turned towards mine. She is not offering me her neck, but her lips.

Another roll of thunder echoes overhead and then, as if the skies had been waiting for this very moment between us, the heavens open. The rain lashes against the carriage in a summer deluge and our lips crash together with the same frantic energy.

Sera’s hands are at my shoulders, pushing my coat away, then balling up the fabric of my shirt as she pulls me closer, closer.

My veins throb.

The beast in me has been quieted by the feed, but the desperation for Sera’s body is unlike anything I have felt before. I cannot get enough of her sweet lips as they bruise against mine. I cannot… will not ever be close enough.

I want to devour her. Consume her entirely until we are one being. The same energy flows back from her in waves — meeting every movement, every kiss with equal intensity.

I pull her into me, taking her in my arms so she clings to me, then push her back flat against the seat. She lays down, eyes blown with lust, and I push the layers of her skirts up to her hips.

I marvel at her in the dim carriage light. She is blushing, chest heaving, lips pink and parted, and I feel the nerves swell in her throat. There is every bit of want and need and desperation to mirror my own, but she is afraid, too.

“This is what you want?” I ask.

Her eyes stay locked on mine as she brings the soles of her shoes together, her knees falling away from her body so her legs form a perfect diamond. “At Nighthaven you promised me ruin, Nate. There is nothing of my reputation to salvage. So ruin me.”

With her words, the fire that lives in my veins and burns only for her becomes an inferno. I claw at her sleeves, pulling them away from her shoulders, desperate to set her breasts free and feel the flesh of her nipples beneath my tongue.

“Corsets are a damned terrible invention,” I growl into her mouth.

“Agreed,” she murmurs beneath me, her hands pulling at my hair to deepen the kiss before her fingers fall to my breeches.

She works at the buttons, setting me free. I prop myself up above her with one hand pressed into the glass and inhale through my teeth as she finds my cock. She is tentative, unsure, and I feel her breath hitch as she traces her trembling fingers over my length, then begins circling the tip.

I kiss her harder, more urgently and she guides me forwards, angling her hips towards me until I am nudging at her entrance.

“It will hurt a little,” I manage to growl, feeling her nod beneath me.

She encourages me forward and I can no longer hold back. I bury myself to the hilt and she cries out, her hand flying above her head to find mine. We weave our fingers together and I watch as Sera’s chin tilts up, her eyes squeezed closed, before I thrust again, slowly and steadily until I feel her pain begin to subside. She looks back at me, eyes growing wide and mouth falling open as I push deeper and deeper, then seek out her tongue and capture it in my mouth, pulling and biting at her lips.

Her hair uncurls from its perfect pins and I fight the instinct to tug them free, so there is no escaping that I have done this to her — ensuring that we will arrive in Bath dishevelled and with no hope of hiding what has passed between us.

As we kiss, I angle myself so my weight is on my left hip, giving me space to press my fingers between us. I know pleasure will come with time, but I want Sera to feel it now — for it to take the place of the sharp ache that burns between her legs. To let her feel a fraction of what I am consumed by in this moment.

I find her swollen, needy bud and rub my fingers over it — first, in long, slow circles, and then building to a strum in time with the thrusts that embed me deeper and deeper inside her.

Seeing her face burn with colour, her head slung back, gasps erupting from her open mouth, is enough to send me crashing into oblivion.

I swallow my own bellows as I thrust, filling Sera completely. It is an effort to keep my fingers moving when I feel as if I am no longer in my body, but I do it, working Sera into a frenzy until she too is panting, arching upwards and clawing at my back with loud, desperate mewls.

I remain buried in her, feeling her muscles contract around my length as I am drained entirely.

The thunder still rolls around the carriage and the rain continues its noisy onslaught against the windows. There is a chance that even with vampiric hearing, Aulus may not have heard the evidence of our pleasure over the din.

I stroke Sera’s hair from her face, cupping her cheek, then brush my lips to her forehead.

She tugs at my chin, pulling me in for a final, searing kiss. “The moment I met you, I knew you would be my death sentence. But now, I am yours too.”